


Frays, Strings, and Things

by Vicarious



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vicarious/pseuds/Vicarious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy wants to be more. Natasha wants to give everything to her, but she can't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frays, Strings, and Things

“I-I…I don’t  _want_  to be an intern forever, Nat.” Darcy stands in the middle of the room feeling defeated. Natasha’s folding her laundry. They were talking about multi-colored post-it notes five minutes ago, but now Darcy’s tearfully saying she wants to be  _more_. 

Natasha doesn’t understand. Darcy is wonderful just the way she is. She’s helpful and sweet and motivating. Being an assistant seemed like the perfect job for her. The spy shrugs as she sits on the floor with Darcy’s jeans in her hands. “An intern position is good for you. You don’t like staying in the same places, you get tired and annoyed with all of your bosses who aren’t Jane Foster, and Bloomington IU’s website says their political science program is incredibly competitive. The internship will be a boost to your C.V. Have you been updating it?” Natasha doesn’t even look at her as she folds a shirt.

Darcy gapes. She’s furious and frustrated and scared as hell. Why doesn’t Natasha understand? She above anyone else should know what it’s like to need to find a niche, a home, a… calling. The only reason why she even applied to graduate school was because she  _couldn’t_  subsist on being an intern forever, but if interning is all she’ll do to get to the place where she’ll intern some more, then what’s the point? Darcy stomps across the room, rips the shirt from Natasha’s hands and throws it back down on the ground.

“You’re the one that wants me to go all the way to frickin’ Indiana, Natasha! Isaid I could apply to SUNY — Or something  _online_. Online would be way better, anyways!”

“The social science program at Bloomington is one of the best in the country. After you graduate, you could work at SHIELD.” 

“I can’t believe you’re saying this! I just said I didn’t want to be an intern forever. You think if I come back they’ll just give me a job? Not everyone has flippin’ super powers and russian science shit in their blood! I’ll end up pushing papers until I’m like,  _forty._ “ 

Natasha just stares up at her, brows pulled together. “I told you I can pull strings.”

“I don’t  _want_  your fucking strings! You think I don’t know you have strings? You could shut down like  _thirty-seven_ governments with a snap of your finger. Or like… _thirty-nine_ , I don’t know! I know you have strings. I don’t want your strings. I don’t want your strings Natasha. I don’t. I don’t want them. I don’t—”

“Darcy, please stop.”

“No! You’re not  _listening_  to what I have to say. You’re just— hearing what you want to hear because you’re always in spy mode!”

“You’re being dramatic.” 

“… Fuck you, Natasha.” Darcy says flatly before wheeling around, picking up her keys and walks for the door. This was Darcy’s house, where did she think she was going?

“It’s raining, take a coat!” Natasha leans back and yells, but the door slams shut.

It always goes like this, Natasha thinks. They talk, Natasha says something that Darcy doesn’t like hearing, she makes an issues out of it, and they fight. Every time Darcy comes back deflated and apologizes. It’s always Darcy.

Natasha wonders if that’s even right. It certainly isn’t fair, but the spy doesn’t even know what to do with that concept. She replays the words over and over in her head, trying to find where she went wrong. She said she wasn’t listening, but she was — everytime she said something, Natasha had advice to give her. 

Natasha frowns as she sits there with Darcy’s laundry in her lap and looks outside to see the rain beating against the window pane. She’ll come back soon. She doesn’t even have a car. Natasha folds two more pairs of jeans before she picks up a shirt from the basket. It catches on the plastic bin and snags, fraying the hem of the collar. Natasha sighs, wondering where Darcy has put the sewing kit. 

Holding the shirt up, she can see it’s Darcy’s favourite shirt. Nothing today is going right. 

But when Natasha runs her fingers over the fray, she remembers: I don’t want your strings.

Natasha clenches the shirt in her fist as she stands, not even bothering to bring her coat or her shoes with her. She just runs out the door, casting herself into the pouring rain.

“Darcy!” She yells out and watches as passerbys look to the crazy barefoot redhead, clutching a hello kitty tshirt. “Darcy! Dar-“

Natasha doesn’t know where to go. The entire area is residential — even Darcy’s favourite coffee shop is at least three miles away. Where did she think she was going to go? 

Natasha almost calls SHIELD — her phone’s in her pocket, but Darcy’s plea replays in her head.  _I don’t want your strings._

Natasha’s heart arches with helplessness. All she has is strings to give.  Her love fails her everytime, and her words fall flat in front of Darcy. Natasha misses their dates and she falls asleep mid-conversation after a long day. All she has is strings to give. If she didn’t want her strings, why did Darcy adore her so much?

Natasha turns and whirls and walks and yells out into the rain, panic stirring inside her chest. “ _Где вы находитесь_?” She sighs aloud, wiping the rain from her face.

That’s when she finds her. Darcy’s just leaning under a tree in someone’s backyard, arms crossed, looking  _right_  at her. She looks angry.

Natasha’s too relieved to hold back, clutching that shirt in her hand and running up to the gate and gracefully hops over it. Before Darcy can say a word, Natasha thrust the frayed shirt into her face.

“ _I’m sorry_.”

Darcy tilts her head back as she looks to the sopping wet shirt, and it takes her a second to see how it rips right at the shoulder. She tentatively reaches out and unfolds it in front of her.

“It’s not a big deal.” Darcy says. She still sounds defensive.

“What?” Natasha asks.

“It’s… not a big deal. It looks cool like this. I— why do you look like you’re from the Noteboo—”

Natasha rushes forward and places her hands on Darcy’s cheeks, pulling her in for a kiss. Darcy’s barriers immediately crash down, and she drops the shirt into the muddy grass beside her. She doesn’t know why she’s being kissed, but she’s never heard Natasha apologize for  _anything_ , so she kisses back for all it’s worth. 

(It’s worth a lot, she says. She swears by it).

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Natasha repeats in between a succession of quick kisses. Darcy pulls her hands up.

“You’re freaking me out, Nat!” 

“I’m sorry.” Natasha pulled back.

Darcy just cracks up at the look on the woman’s face. Natasha frowns and searches her eyes with desperation, and that only makes her laugh harder. It’s a second before she realizes she’s crying. God, Natasha looks so terrified!

“I’m not scared of much,” Natasha says almost like it’s a promise and pulls her close into a tight hug. “I’ve always been alone and I thought I was fine. I’m always fine. Now the idea of losing you is unimaginable. It’s  _insanity._  I just want what’s best for you. I want you to be happy and to be alive and to do well, and I want to be there to watch you do all of it. I pressure you and spoil you because I don’t know what else to do, and I’m  _sorry_ , Darcy. You don’t need to go to Indiana, or be an intern, you can do whatever it is that you want. You can be whatever you want to be and I’ll support you, in any way that I can that doesn’t involve… spy stuff. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Natasha trails kisses up Darcy’s cheek, to her temple.

Darcy huddles in Natasha’s arms and sobs, shaking. She’s normally so good at comforting, finding the  _wrong_  thing to say and somehow making it all right in the end, but she’s got nothing. Natasha’s honesty rips right through her and leaves her feeling raw and scared. She can do anything? How can Natasha, who has done everything, say that to her? She’s not a super spy. She’s not a super hero. She’s not a god or a scientist or even a full-time employee. She’s an intern and she doesn’t know what else to be, other needing to be something amazing. 

“I don’t want to go to grad school. I don’t want to be an intern. I don’t— I don’t  _know_ what I want to be, Nat, I don’t  _know_. I just want to be amazing. I just want to be  _great_.”

“ _You_  are great, Darcy. You are so, so, great.” Natasha smiles over her shoulder as she pets her hair again and again. “You’re amazing.” She pulls back and she looks to her with absolute certainty. “You  _tased_  a god. You helped save a town from an alien threat. You keep Jane Foster  _sane_  and you made me fall in love with you. You do the impossible and you’re amazing for it. Every time. You’re not defined by being the only person who knows how to use the copy machine. You’re defined by just being yourself.” 

“Copy machines really aren’t that hard to figure out.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Darcy starts crying again.

“So I can stay?” She weeps, clutching Natasha hard as she rests her head on the redhead’s shoulder. “I can stay with you? Just like this, we can stay and be awkward and stupidly adorable and figure things out together? Just like this?” She looks up to Natasha.

She nods.

“I want that.” Her words feel useless again, and Natasha would feel ineffectual if it weren’t for the girl squeezing her tight. “I want  _you_. You’re… something else, Darcy. I wish I could show you how am—”

“Naaaat, Stoooooop.” Darcy is whining, but she laughs, and it causes Natasha to wrap her arms around her tighter. 

“We’ll work on it.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

Darcy is still an intern, but right now? She’s more.

She’s so much more.


End file.
